Icarus
by Sauri
Summary: [Gruvia] [One-Shot] He wanted the sun. She wanted home.


**N/A: **There are some creations that you lost track of what the fucking fuck you were aiming for with them and end up as some-men-want-to-see-the-world-burn kind of deal _knowing_ that's a subpar thingy at best. It went to shit but you keep on it because you wanna see it ended and don't know what else to do.

THIS IS ONE OF THEM. YOU'RE WELCOME.

Shitty ending to boot. And it was supposed to be around 5k words. HA.

So.

Enjoy.

**Warnings: **OOC GALORE! Trying out new shitty style as well? And this needs HEAVY EDITING, but like, really a lot of editing. Only, I've already spent more time than I should on this and I don't have time and like, I got thousand of projects and exams to do so I _can't _and I'm fuckin _**sorry**._ But sometime in summer holyday I'll come back and revise -cries-

**Summary:**[Gruvia] [One-Shot] He wanted the sun. She wanted home.

**Disclaimer: **Fairy Tail belongs to Mashima. Yada-yada.

* * *

**Icarus**

**.**

**.**

**i.**

_All the problems started when she least expected them to __―__as usual, really._

**.**

Gray scratches at his chin, a disgruntled expression making its way while his eyes roam the disfigured right arm―starting from the fingertips up through biceps and triceps until reaching the juncture of his shoulder.

"Well," he drawls with a cocked eyebrow at the strange situation, "this _is _new. Didn't think it would be a thing."

Juvia leans in, soft fingertips brushing the eroded skin of his forearm as her brow furrows. It's rough to the touch, as if it's made of little, tiny prickles sewed together and then covered with a thin layer of black paint that feels wicked to the senses.

Almost diabolic, she ponders, and shudders at the idea.

"Did this happen before?" she asks with thinly pressed lips.

"Once? When stopping that Mardi's attack." Gray shrugs. "It went away as fast, so didn't imagine it'd stick around."

She frowns, gazing at the splotch of dark that crawls around his skin like sharp, extended, _deadly_ claws of a beast that doesn't seem about to let go off of him. It reeks, sending all alarms into a symphony of shrilling noises inside her head while her stomach twists and coils uneasily.

This isn't good, she determines with newfound clarity. This is _not _right _at all._

What does it even _mean, _anyway?

It was Father's legacy, so it cannot be anything harmful, right? Not like it affected him, Gray-sama, as far as she could see. Or so it looks like, at least.

But then again, maybe, this was an aftereffect from that demon's, Mard Geer's, attack that has messed with the original power, and if they went on without treating the―the thing, it could―

It would―

"Hey," Gray calls, enveloping the hand that has lingered on him with his own―the one that isn't tainted with blackness. "It's nothing. Stop worrying."

He squishes tightly as she takes note on how comfortable and calloused and scarred his hand is. His short nails chafe her fair skin even though they don't leave any scrapes in their trail, his fingers firm and jagged brushing hers with a care rare of him even when they aren't soft or warm or like those hands that the princes of her dreams have.

She notices how _perfectly_ they ―their interlaced hands― fit with each other. As always.

Juvia sighs, nods and gazes the shady branches of his body

**.**

She knows better than taking any chances with the _whatever _roving his body―slowly, carefully, frighteningly so.

Even when he told her not to fret, she does, and she knows he does, too.

Only, Gray decided not to act on it for reasons he would never let her in on.

It's okay, she tells herself.

It is _okay_ he does not tell her. He has the right not to.

"What are you doin' with that mountain of books?" Gray asks, picking one of the thickest. "_Demon Tales throughout History, _uh."

He stares and she squirms, head dipping into the collar of her dress.

"Nothing much. Juvia considered she should research a bit." She pats the column of tomes and manuscripts next to her. Her mouth twits upwards noncommittally. "Just in case."

"I see."

He sits in the other armchair of the little cottage they have rented, his back slumping against the worn furniture. She peeks from above the book acting as a shield, watching his toned muscles stretch and tense while he catches the same book from before and opens it at a random page.

He doesn't start reading it.

"So, found something of help?"

Juvia peeps, eyes hiding behind pages scrawled with words of old and new demons and whatnots, far away from the tilted head and questioning gaze of her now housemate― friend, love interest, whatever they are then.

"No," she mumbles, face red. "But she found _this_ at the bookstore!"

It's a snip from an article with an enchanting title, a name scribbled bellow paragraphs of idle information and the modest photo at the side of a busty, cheerful blonde.

She waits expectantly.

"Lucy as a reporter," he says, quickly examining it and a crooked smile appearing. "Somewhat, it fits her. Really."

She giggles cheerfully.

"Juvia thinks so."

**.**

Gray plunges forward, fist smashed together, ready to create another ice weapon out of thin air. He growls as the beautifully adorned spear crossed her abdomen to the other side with droplets splashing everywhere while she transforms her slim arms into water tentacles about to slash him.

She misses, though, when he ducks just at the right moment and, with a well-timed swing of a new intricately decorated sword in his other hand, throws her off balance to become a sprawl of limbs on the floor.

He follows after, his knees bucking at the hours of exercise they have suffered throughout the scorching afternoon.

They pant, satisfied expression crossing their features, sweat glinting in their mangled bodies and a bubble of a content sigh passing through her lips.

Juvia smiles at him happily, hopefully and above all, tired. It's time to call for a break.

"Gray-sama, Juvia thinks we should_―" _Her words die before coming to life, however, when perceiving the grip on his arm_―_the _wrong_ arm.

Suddenly, with a burst of worry, she discerns the blackness that once it only licked _just_ the beginning of his scapula, has broadened beyond his shoulder and into the deepness of his chest.

The whirls thicken, developing into shadows that invade the soft pink of his skin with an easiness unbecoming of something that have been labeled as a harmless nonentity.

She gapes, questions spinning between them without speaking, and reached out to touch him.

He avoids her gaze and her contact.

Juvia smashes her mouth into a thin white line and says nothing.

The rest is history.

**.**

**.**

**ii.**

_At first, she deemed the hardest part was coming up with the will __―the wish, the hope to fly away._

_She imagined creating the concept of waxwings was the most difficult of all them ―much like her decision of setting Silver Fullbuster free from his imprisonment almost tore her from the inside out._

_It turned out it wasn't._

**.**

"What do you want?" he asks from the other side of the table as they eat homemade spinach curry with goat milk bought from some ambulant merchant. "After all this fucking shit is done for and, _y'know_, we're back to the normal boring days."

Her spoon clutters as it drops against the wooden plate, the sound that trailed echoing in the silence composed by his piercing gaze and her untamed imagination screaming in excitement.

Slowly, although not quite sure about what he wants exactly, she smiles sneakily, wandering his body from head to toes with playful eyes.

Gray huffs.

"Apart from _that_."

She takes a moment, a breath, her yearnings quietly appearing at the front of her thoughts. Her lower lip purses as she pushes the plate full of food out of her reach.

"Well, Juvia wants to go back home with Fairy Tail and the others," she states with an involuntary soft expression. "She misses them, wants to go out with Gajeel and Cana and Lissana and_― _not like Juvia's complaining about Gray-sama. No, no, _no!_ She _loves _it, really loves living with Gray-sama and helping_―_ but, sometimes, she thinks_―_"

"Juvia_―"_

"―wants to know how the others are doing, and she has yet to give Gajeel his birthday present. She promised Cana that she'd go with her to the new bar she discovered, too―"

"For fuck―can you just listen to me_―_"

"―but Juvia doesn't even know _where _they are, so it _doesn't _matter, really. Although she hopes we can be together again even though Fairy Tail is no longer_―_not like our guild _won't_ come back, though, Juvia hopes―"

"Juvia!" Gray yells, silencing her. "That's a _given, _dammit. We are gonna meet each other again. It's a fact like the sky is blue and Natsu is an idiot and Lyon nosey. So. Stop it." He sighs, hands rubbing the temple of his head. "I meant something else. Dunno. A fucking pet, a new dress, _whatever._"

"Oh," she gasps, baffled. "Oh! Then― then, uhm. This is so _sudden._"

Nibbling, Juvia dashes trying to search for anything she could want. She has never given a thought about the matter as all her friends are safe and Gray-sama with her―more or less, at least.

Her mouth tugs upwards, glancing at the dish in front of her. Maybe a dress, she considers, but she already bought a couple; or new material for her _personal _plushies, although Gray might freak out with them; or a bouquet of roses from him like in one of her fantasies…

Perhaps food that was not curry of spinach, she regards lightheartedly.

Three days of the same dish gets old fast, after all.

Spinaches have never been exactly her favorite, either. They have a taste at the end that never convinced her, and it has been so long since she has last tasted sweetness―inundating all her senses and tongue rendered to the sugary, saccharine savor that takes over―

"Chocolate!"

He blinks.

"Chocolate?"

"_Yes_."

Gray's eyes become suspicious slits and jaw drops, a sneer showing. Juvia pouts, anxiously playing with the spoon and steering clear of him.

It's a _good _idea regardless of what he thinks.

"For all the fucking things, _seriously_―" he mutters grumpily. She stares through her bangs. "Whatever. Done."

"What?"

"You want chocolate, so I'm buying your dammed chocolate once we're back."

"Gray-sama is serious?"

He snorts. Thrill curses her.

"Why would I ask if it wasn't for that?"

**.**

The door opens with a cringe.

Muffled footsteps enter the silent house, careful not to make any sound while he stumbles in the darkness to find his bed. She can see him, his blurred silhouette against the faint, ghostly light of the moon while making his way towards the other side of the room.

She rustles, turning around to face another night of doubts and worries as he vanishes for days and nights, and comes back as if nothing is happening when, in fact, it is.

"Where did Gray-sama go?" she asks, not for the first time.

He stops abruptly, his head snapping to her directions with half-body inside the bed, and it's cold at home although the windows are closed, his half-lidded eyes regarding her with weariness not so uncommon lately as he opens his mouth to close it again.

A breeze passes by even though the door has been safely locked.

She tugs the sheets closer.

He scratches at his right arm, not looking at her.

"Nowhere," he answers.

"Liar," she says.

**.**

She enters the room after a shower, leaving clouds of steam and water drops in her steps, and Gray freezes on the spot.

"What," he grits with a twitching eyebrow, "are you wearing?"

Juvia looks down towards the oversized cotton gray shirt with sleeves too long for her short arms and the hem slightly brushing her bare thighs. It's pretty comfortable, actually, warm enough for the rainy seasons outside and with just the right length to be able to walk with it as the only clothe.

"Gray-sama's shirt,_ of course._"

He huffs, shaking his head.

"But _why_?"

She fumbles with one of the buttons, little and round and straining against the fabric because it's a shirt made for a man wore by a woman ―why does Gray-sama have to buy such as tight attire, anyway? He would look handsome even if they were loose and not so glued to the body.

"Juvia's clothes are dirty. She needs to clean them, so Juvia needs _something _to wear _now_."

It takes longer than what is characteristic for him to react, but the response arrives, and he starts moving around the kitchen, preparing their dinner with some fishes she caught before.

"Then why the hell aren't you using your other dress. I _know _you have spares."

Juvia's mouth hangs open, ready for an explanation that could go on for _days. _No word comes out, though, as she plays with the hem, sight gelled on the imperceptible crack of the wall in front of her.

"Does it matter?"

He scoffs.

She pulls on the sleeves too long for her to cover her cold hands and shrugs.

"It's just… Juvia likes this one better."

He exhales noisily and they eat.

**.**

He arrives as she trains outside, water shapes ethereal and beautiful and consistent surrounding her as if they're her followers, but sharp to slay and boil and freeze anyone who stands in her path.

The magic stops flowing around, his week and half disappearance weighing on the silence Juvia cannot break while she watches him watching her and her eyebrows furrow into a gloomy grimace.

The shadowed marks spread further into his neck and pectoral, until they conquer the beginning of his stomach more gaudy and sinister than ever before.

"_Maybe_," she begins hesitatingly, all other pleasantries and sparking anger forgotten, "Gray-sama shouldn't use that magic anymore."

He sighs long and suffered, his movements halting to a lax, defeated posture with limbs dangling uselessly and nostrils flaring. Gray tugs his lower lip out, his next step quivering before landing.

She scowls.

Except, if sought deep enough, confidence and dedication shines through, blinding her, and he doesn't look as lost or beaten.

She _fears._

"I can't," he says.

Something, somewhere, is going to go wrong ―glaringly, stupidly, absolutely wrong and she will regret not asking for more, she knows.

**.**

"You're incredibly _impossible,_" he comments off-handedly as they prepare to sleep.

Juvia blinks, startled by his confession.

Gray has been off, lately. Moody and taciturn, not willing to hold a conversation if she doesn't nudge him to, gazing far away when he thinks she isn't watching, and just so hopelessly distant. Today, however, he appears to be more agreeable to talking and just being with her, even when he says such things that throw her off although his words don't hold any malice.

And she would take that moment of at ease, even if they only last for as long as the night.

Her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

"Is that… _bad?"_

"No," he says. "Yes. Maybe. I don't know. You're _confusing _and make everything so―_hard_. Whatever the heck that means."

His necklace twirls between his nimble hands on one of those rare occasions he takes it off, face wrinkled around unfocused eyes.

She doesn't understand what he is on about.

"Juvia makes Gray-sama hard?"

He gawks; she freezes.

Juvia writhes her hands, a furious red covering her cheeks, ears and neck, eyes wide in bewilderment and confusion. This is _so _sudden; how is she supposed to proceed in situations like this, now?

But Gray seems put out, glaring at her in utter disbelief and aggravation, and perhaps that isn't what he tried to communicate.

A squeak escapes from Juvia's mouth, hands hastily covering her crimson face.

"Forget it, Gray-sama, please!"

She peers from between fingers, ready for a gruff sigh and exhausted mumbles, and―

He laughs.

**.**

A day after, he disappears into the night, a silver cross the only remain in his wake.

**.**

**.**

**iii.**

_They could pluck the feathers from unaware birds that stood by their little window. Wax, nevertheless, was another matter entirely that required more than patience and hard work. It involved stealing from the monster imprisoning them, of gaining his favor to backstab him if he didn't kill you by then._

_It had been vital __―the half-truths and the betrayal and all the alone nights in a cold room, almost breaking her and him and the world with it._

_At the end, they achieved it._

_Yet, it almost swallowed him whole. _

_Worse._

_He still was being eating away._

**.**

The first few days, she doesn't worry.

Well, she does, but it's the habitual for her, so she doesn't worry more than the usual.

The days are calm and slow, spent between training, the chores of the house and the occasional mission to keep the budget going. Those times aren't happy or sad or just _ something, _and each night she mourns when his figure doesn't appear in front of their door.

The necklace's presence is heavy, carefully avoided every morning.

It doesn't matter, though_―_it means absolutely _nothing _and that's that.

It's another one of those trips Gray never comments to her, she tells herself, where he will come back after days of worry and doubts, trying too hard to act as if nothing has happened although there is something going on. She will poke him in the hopes of receiving some answer that would quell all the irritation and uncertainty and dread even though he will never give away even the tiniest of hints.

Then, they will sit at the table or train together or anything else till everything repeats itself once again like it has been happening as of late.

He will come back, for sure, because that's what Gray does_―_has been doing for the past months. He disappears and then he appears again, flustered by her questions and ready to amend by conceding her.

Until he _doesn't_.

Of course he doesn't.

He doesnn't reappear after a week, or two, or even a month. And some part of her just _knows _he isn't coming back.

Not this time.

She doesn't stop waiting, though.

Not like she _can._

The necklace doesn't move from its place on his nightstand.

**.**

The rain starts two months into his disappearance, all her hope drained and patience low with the 'he will; he won't' and horror plasters in her face when she wakes up one day to face the water drops falling from the cloudy sky.

Juvia stares, mind muddled with surprise and sleepiness, and a gnawing sensation grows at the pitch of her stomach that sickens her.

The little clashing sound resonates in the too silent room. Her eyes widen, mouth agape, and she doesn't want to believe what is beyond her little hut _―their _home.

She wheezes.

It isn't possible, right? The rain, it isn't even though she can feel the magic swirling inside her.

_―_right?

She hurls forward, sheets draping around her body while the window rattles with the force of the wind and gasps for air that isn't filling her lungs.

She bites down on her lip. Hard.

It doesn't make any sense.

The rain was gone_―_ _gone _for good and how did it came _back_? She has overcome this already. She has Gray-sama and Gajeel and Lucy and Fairy Tail so _how?_

It isn't possible, she thinks, because she has all the friends and love and everything she has wished for. And it can't be_― _it just can't and_―_

It is not possible, it is not possible, it is not possible_―_

_―_except they aren't there anymore, are they?

And maybe, probably, it is possible.

It is possible.

It _is _fucking possible.

The rain's all the proof she needs.

And she cries, screams and bawls into the pillow.

And it's painfully, and impossible, and she hates it.

Hates it, hates it, _hates_ it.

So―

She _cries _and the rain doesn't stop.

**.**

"Sorry, dear, you'll have to speak louder," the woman yells, hand cupping one of her ears. "This old lady's hearing isn't what it used to be, you see, and with this rain it's more difficult, even_―_and shouldn't you cover from the rain, sweetie? You're going to get a cold soaked like that."

Juvia smiles weakly, swatting the damps strands of her hair out of her face and not caring about the downpour falling on her. It's the third time she has to repeat herself.

"Have you seen or know where any of this people are?" she asks again more slowly and clearly, shoving a photo in front of the lady.

The elder squints, the bags on her arms dangling dangerously and umbrella tipping to the side as she gets closer to see the line-up of women and men smiling at the photographer ―a remembrance of a better time just some months ago, with her guild and friends and _Gray_―

"I'm sorry, dear," the woman replies, "I haven't seen anyone like them around here. And I'd know, believe me." She narrows her eyes, getting a better look of the image. "But they _do_ look astonishingly familiar. As you do, actually."

Juvia hides the photo in one of the folds of her dress, carefully preventing the exposure of water. She shakes off the droplets hanging from her fingers, exhaling as the rain got heavier by the second.

She bows to the lady, a forced expression tainting her features as she considers she won't be able to do much more that day.

"Juvia's guild participated on the Grand Magic Games," she answers politely. "Maybe you saw Juvia and her friends there."

"Oh, dear! _Now_ I remember. Those were some incredible games!" A squeal comes out while the woman juggles with the plastic bags. "You were spectacular, child, if you could accept this old woman's praise."

"Thank you. Juvia tried her best."

The lady frowns.

"I didn't know Fairy Tail disbanded. That's some bad news, and you are searching for your guildmates, sweetie?" she continues without waiting for an answer. "It must be hard on you. Although I can't quite believe you're alone. All of you seemed so close―a tight group. Especially that lad with you in the last test ―an ice mage, isn't he? Both of you reminded of me and my dear eons ago." She giggles and pats her arm casually. "What happened to him?"

Juvia steels her jaw, body going taut and eyes downcast.

The smile doesn't come easily.

She gulps, plays with her hat until it lays correctly atop her head and closes her eyes.

"He― Juvia's searching for him, too," she whispers.

"A pity," the woman says, not really dwelling on the matter. "Good luck on your task."

Juvia sniffs, clutching at her damp dress.

"Thank you."

**.**

She finds something.

She finds less than nothing.

There are rumors of someone with a wild mane and an unusual cat at the south, so she takes her luggage and goes there to find that that the man is long gone with a group related to the Council. She eavesdrops about a woman assaulting a cake shop at the coast side, but the scarlet knight has already disappeared with the sweets by the time she arrives. Lucy is always moving from Crocus to Magnolia to some little town's events. Juvia doesn't have the guts to face Lyon either, when Gray is away and missing, when it was _her _mission to look after him.

And she doesn't want to confront them and doesn't want to meet them so she can tell them that she has been useless and has let Gray go with those evil, evil marks imbued in his body, and― and―

And she is just _so_ afraid.

Because she doesn't hear of Gray.

Because she hears of a cult close by.

Zeref's followers, people mutter in hushed tones, with the aim of helping their master when needed―fools all of them.

Some talk about _avatars_ taking charge and power inconspicuously, of few men and women with different magics and all of them powerful doing as they please. Others talk about salvation and the right path that, maybe, possibly, may be found with Zeref and his words. A small amount of people describe a young man of black hair, scars disfiguring his body and ice powers going with them.

She doesn't believe the last ones. Just coincidence, she convinces herself, and shrugs it off.

All of them comment on the sudden rains pouring down although just seconds ago the sun shone.

She comes back to the lone house in the abandoned town Gray and Juvia have stayed in for what she recalls as one of, not maybe the happiest, but most comfortable days of her life―_their _home.

She waits and four months pass by.

**.**

The river that passes through the village overflows and she has one week worth of floods. Most of the vegetables and fruits she stores end up rotten thanks to the humidity, and she can't get her clothes to dry. She gets colds more times than not because she is stubborn and doesn't want the umbrella back.

It's grating and it's annoying and it's depressing and it's scratching all in the worst ways―it's _momentary_, she hopes.

For a flitting moment Juvia packs all her belongings, a map to Crocus at hand, and decides she is leaving. She has had enough of being alone, of not doing enough, and wants a familiar face to go to.

Nevertheless, she can't leave. What would she say to the others after all? That Gray was gone, that she could do nothing to prevent or to help or anything at all when that is what Fairy Tail does?

That she _gave up_?

So she laughs bitterly, enters the house and unpacks everything again.

Instead, she decides to spend the days training and searching for information, as futile as it can be. She gets stronger, she manages to save some money, she learns a bit more of the world thanks to the people she talks to.

But it doesn't _matter. _Because she has never cared about power or magic and status or money―they are useless and fleeting and so fucking empty.

The only thing she has ever needed is― she _needs_―

She needs to know where Gray is.

She needs to be sure that he is okay.

She needs Fairy Tail, and she needs Gajeel and Cana and all the others.

She needs the rain to _stop_.

She needs too much and doesn't know how to get it.

She _needs _help, because she doesn't know what else to do or for how long she can endure.

And thank God it comes in the form of Lucy Heartfilia and Natsu Dragneel.

**.**

Her lids close again, sleepiness weighing on her tired body as a fire suffocates her form the inside. They are unusually quiet while talking, especially Natsu, who Juvia always remembers for his loud voice and always present optimism, and as a result she fears the worst.

It takes them time to reach a plan, her throbbing head painfully hindering her from the necessary rest as Wendy works her magic on her slump body. She doesn't feel any better even with the little Dragon Slayer's efforts, but she doesn't mention it just in case.

They already have enough as it is.

"Juvia," Lucy murmurs, her blurred face coming into view, "we're going."

The words don't process quickly enough and Juvia squints to see better.

"Going?"

"Yes," she announces. "Wendy and Carla'll stay with you."

"I'll take care of you, Juvia-san!" the youngest chirms, hand on her heart and a confident smile smeared in her face.

Juvia smiles appreciatively, a bit dazed and a bit confused; but happy, nonetheless.

She still regrets not being of help to them, but they insist she should stay in bed and not to worry ― they'll be there before she can utter 'Fairy Tail' with the stupid of Gray with them and how Natsu will make him regret ever leaving her alone, and then they'll go searching for the other members of their guild and everything will back to how it should be. It always _is._

They're loud and confident and stupidly joyful, just as she recalls, always forgiving and amicable and―

She has been _silly. _A coward, stupid selfish girl that has thought the worst from the most incredible people she has ever met and she is ashamed now.

But she's happy, too, and she cries, like she has been doing so many times lately. Unlike those time, thought, she's relieved instead of desperate, it's hope instead of anxiety ―it's what she calls home and friends and family.

It's all the better when they panic, asking if there's anything wrong and she can only answer one thing:

"Juvia missed this," she whimpers between hiccups. "Juvia's _so_ glad."

Somewhere between her words and Natsu's amused laughter, Lucy hugs her, followed by Wendy and Happy and Carla to top with the Fire Dragon Slayer jumping above all of them ―to become an awkward pile of limbs and mound of bodies clumsily positioned with bones poking painfully and the air sucked out of their lungs.

"I know," Lucy mumbles with a joyful smile, hand resting with hers. "I did, too. It feels good to be back."

She agrees.

**.**

**.**

**iv.**

_They succeeded and built wings made of wax and feathers, looked forward to the tiny window of their freedom and left behind the Minotaur, the Maze and King Minos._

_So the story goes, at least __―theirs was not completely different from it, quite similar in which she longed for safety and home, and he wished for revenge and liberation. _

_But―_

_She warned him of what could, would go wrong; he didn't listen._

_He exasperated at her discards of what they should aim for; she didn't understand._

_They flew and the worst was to come. Or this is how it's told._

** . **

Juvia wakes up to a cold hand in her forehead, screams in the adjacent room and the familiar tap-tap-tap of her rain against the window. It seems an eternity ago since she last woke up, her thoughts muddled, movements heavy and the unpleasant cotton-like sensation in her mouth with Wendy fretting over her.

But Wendy isn't there this round, her voice resonating further away with Natsu's and, bizarrely enough, she hears Gajeel's as well. For a second she wonders what they are doing until her eyes finally flicker open, her heart sinks and the rest just doesn't matter anymore.

Nothing matters when the figure of Gray Fullbuster sits next to her bed with sight glued to the window and left hand resting on her forehead.

She gasps, he looks down and she doesn't believe it.

She _doesn't _believe what she sees.

It's her imagination playing up _again, _she thinks.

Unpredictably even to her own senses, she smashes one hand in his face, bumping against his nose, jabbing her index finger too close to his left eye and scrapping the palm against his teeth. He grunts surprised, shoving the hand away and spitting on the floor as she moans when a splitting headache bolts her.

"What the hell are you doing?!" he exclaims.

And it is―it's real for once, and he is grumping and frowning and glaring and he _is._

Gray is there and he is real.

His frown lingers for seconds to no end while she gaps and her lids flicker stupidly, her mouth hanging open even though no air arrives to her lungs. Her body is warm_―_hot even, her vision blurry and her cheeks flare crimson and she is hot, hot, hot and she is dizzy and hot and _angry, so very angry―_

His eyes smolder, his mouth transforming into a pitiful smirk and Gray pushes her down to the mattress―when did she sit up?―with a hand resting in her head, cold and welcome.

It's only then when Juvia notices the demon marks already climbing up his face, taking over half of his chest and his right arm completely covered in a dark cloak and eyes not the usual comforting misty gray but red, red, _red_―like blood and fire and all things gone wrong.

"Gray-sama?" she whispers, a bit afraid and a bit too happy.

He blinks, shrugs, and caresses her hair almost imperceptibly, eyes following the movement carefully, before slouching against the chair and hiding behind his heterochromatic arms.

"I'm sorry," he says.

Juvia opens her mouth and then snaps it shut.

_It doesn't matter,_ she wants to say. _Everything is going to be okay now._

_Why did you leave me? Juvia wants__―wants to _slap_ you because does Gray-sama even _know_―_

Juvia bites her lip and her mouth hurts due to the smile that doesn't leave.

_Welcome home._

She doesn't say anything. Not yet, but Gray does, and this time he looks at her square in the eye.

"I'm sorry, Juvia," he chokes."So sorry, but _still,_ I'm―"

She is too tired for this―for the apology and excuses and what have you being doing and why have you done what you have done. So, she fondles with his raven hair from her awkward position, bringing it to the familiar state of happier days instead of the gelled back abortion that is now.

The heavy, dark stuff will be saved for later, when she isn't so happy about having him there, within her reach and well.

"Gray-sama," she chastises, "that hairstyle doesn't suit you."

He quiets instantly before snorting, helping her on her self-imposed task with an exasperated 'really, _now?' _flashing through his glare.

The dopey smile is still there when she drops on the bed again, his locks all messy and tangled and chaotic.

"Better." She waggles satisfied.

He chuckles.

**.**

"It's still raining, uh?" Lucy comments two afternoons after their return.

Juvia looks outside the little window to find the cloudy sky and the droplets of water that have yet to stop. She doesn't know what it means, but does know that it is still her magic what is causing the eternal showers.

It's baffling―it doesn't make sense, and she notices the sideway glances that her friends send in her direction when they think she doesn't perceive them.

"It's the fever," she tells them with a crooked smile that assures them. "When Juvia is back to normal and healthy it'll go."

For the most part, they nod, although occasionally Gajeel frowns as if wondering about some impossibility and Gray never ever looks at her when the topic is brought up, jaw clasped and fists clenched at his sides.

They have filled her in on the adventure they lived when she was far away from the living world. Lucy explains while Gajeel adds his usual snide remarks and Natsu excitedly describes the action scenes with exaggerated movements to the attentive audience hanging on every word. Juvia cringes as Gray's involvement comes to the light―demon and enemy and too far gone to reach by conventional methods.

Gray sits in the furthest corner, not responding to the thinly veiled hurls and jokes directed at him with a stoic expression that struggles too hard to remain indifferent. She stays silent, agonizing wrinkles appearing at the corner of her eyes, and keeps listening.

"My punches are the best," Natsu boasts somewhere in the middle of the climax as he illustrates the final battle and how they brought a comrade back to his lost senses.

She laughs weakly next to all the others, disregarding the downside tug on Gray's mouth as she leans against the pillow and mantles. Her mind still spins in ways that overwhelms her time to time, her body always aching and breathing labored―always so hot and angry even though Wendy tries her best and then some while the others take care of her like never before.

She thanks the glass of water, shoots a rueful smile and 'please, continue'. However, she is long gone, thoughts swirling wildly in what will, what won't happen from then on and pondering if the situation is really fixed as Natsu so elatedly claims.

Juvia notes the concerned signs on Lucy and the distrustful observations of Gajeel, her loved one always keeping some sort of distance when it comes down to demons and Slayer Magic and Zeref and E.N.D.

She scowls.

Her rain isn't gone, neither are his marks or red eyes, and that makes her wonder about what is to come.

She trusts it isn't any worse than what they have lived until now.

**.**

Juvia hugs first Gajeel, then Lucy and Wendy last; shakes hands with Natsu, Pantherlily and Carla, and pats Happy's head.

"Are you sure? Maybe we should wait, it's not like we're in a _hurry_…" Lucy mumbles, heels cackling against the ground.

"It's all right! Gray-sama and Juvia'll catch up with you as soon as Juvia feels better," she confides, dangling from Gray's left arm with a vice-like grip. "Besides, Fairy Tail's been divided long enough! It's time to get back."

The celestial mage giggles, fingers playing with one her locks that had grown through the course of a year. She draws nearer, bright smile in place and Juvia responds in kind. It's sad to get separated so soon after reuniting.

"Take care." Lucy's eyes drift to the man at her side, tall and aloof, listening to what Gajeel is saying. "Of him too. For the moment it's okay, but I―"

She shakes her head.

"Yes, Juvia understands."

And like that, they are on the way of their next destination, leaving her and Gray-sama in their little house of the little raining town.

**.**

Once inside their home, with the sound of the rain behind, silence weights on them.

With a sudden realization, she recognizes it has been half year since they were alone, training and sharing and living. It's strange how familiar and unfamiliar is to be setting the table for lunch after so long. His gaze follows her every movements as if she was the source of all his question and doubts with no answers for them.

She holds the spoons and forks close to her when a thought occurs to her, almost in revenge, and she peers behind her bangs as so many times before.

"Is… Gray-sama fine with this?" she inquires tentatively. "Staying with Juvia. Juvia knows that Gray-sama wants to get E.N.D as soon as possible and she doesn't want to hinder him out of _pity_―"

"_No!_" he bursts. She blinks, surprised._ "_I mean, yes. Zeref won't go anywhere for now anyway."

She takes in the manner in which he avoids her gaze, scratches at his arm and just doesn't settle down, always moving anxiously, tensely, restlessly. She dwells on her catalog of _Gray-sama's habits_ and discovers that this is the way Gray acts when he is about to do something he'll regret.

Or make someone _else _lament it.

She already imagines the answer to her question even before muttering it.

"But Gray-sama will after this, won't he?"

He stills, hand midway to reach his hair again. He looks at her―_really _looks at her―and she pinpoints the moment all his muscle tense and his shoulder shag in defeat.

"Yeah," he says. "Yes. I'm―not sorry, but _―I have to._ It's what I was― just have to, okay? So. Yes. I am. After taking care of you I'm off."

Juvia clips her tongue against her teeth, furrowed forehead matching her little frown.

"Gray-sama's so predictable," she murmurs with chin dipping into her chest.

He snorts and wears a little mean sneer.

"Well," he drawls, "think at least I'm seeing you off properly."

The cutlery falls to the floor, her stunned expression contorting into a creased brow and pained look while he grimaces with wide eyes when his brain catches up with his mouth.

"I'm sorry―I didn't _mean_― It's not like…" He breathes, hand curling around his hair and glowering at the creeping darkness of his body. "It's the _only _way. I'm sorry."

She sighs.

"Juvia is too."

**.**

**.**

**v.**

_He got greedy and dazzled and _desperate_, drunk with the bright, shiny light of the sun._

_Scorching, too, and the wax melted, the feathers dispersed and the wings disappeared into oblivion._

_Someone screamed, not knowing how and when and _why_―_

_And he fell to the deepest, darkest, most turbulent seas to never return from its clutches. _

_So the story goes, at least __―theirs was not completely the same, however, and that saved them._

_In this version, he spoke to her and she stopped him._

_For the moment, at any rate._

**.**

He is playing with the necklace again, she observes.

It glitters with the light of the ongoing fire to keep them warm, the cross casually dangling for the chain as she follows its motion. She munches over a piece of bread with the cold almost completely neutralized and wonders what his astonished face meant when she returned the object.

Not much, perhaps, since when questioned about the reason of leaving it behind Gray only shrugged and mumbled 'I felt like it'.

The more pessimistic side of her muses if he will do the same soon.

"You're wearing my shirt," he comments in the middle of the silence. "_Again_."

Juvia glances down to the too huge shirt for her, finishing the last crumples of the bread with a final motion of cleaning the corner of her mouth. It's humid in the room, her hair damp and the regular soundtrack that has followed her for the better part of five months resonates behind the oak boards.

"Not like I mind. Stopped when you didn't seem to." He grins, the lopsided one that she loves so dearly, and Juvia giggles when he leans into his hand expectantly.

She takes the sleeves to stretch them over her cold hands, showing him how they cover them wholly and there is ample fabric sliding down.

He lifts a brow at her childish exposure and she pouts.

"Juvia wears Gray-sama's shirts because they smell_― _it's, maybe, possibly, kind of creepy, Juvia knows, but―" Gray scoffs, interrupting her while she catches him rolling his eyes in a telling manner. She has the decency of flushing bashfully before continuing. "They smell and they're warm and it's―_reassuring_. She _likes _them."

He doesn't utter a thing, fingers drumming against his thigh and gaze fixed in the window at their right. There is the beginning of a pinkish hue covering his cheeks, and it nearly melts her heart into a puddle of squeals.

But she contains herself, fidgety, and regards her own covered hands with intensity.

"Juvia was―_is_ afraid," she goes on. "Juvia thought that if she didn't do enough Gray-sama would do something reckless and… leave." Which is what happened in spite of, she silently adds. "Juvia can imagine as well that Gray-sama is, well―Anyway, they're cozy and comfortable. Better than Juvia's dresses."

Sooner than he can splutter about her unfinished sentence, she bumps her arms wildly in a show to demonstrate her point, her locks messily falling around her head and the shirt tightens around her chest.

It must have looked ridiculous, because he smiles―the kind that she hasn't had a glimpse of for way too long: soft, ephemeral and blissful.

Gray attempts to hide it behind a lowered head, taking the sight away to her sadness, and she snuffles and pouts and whines.

She wishes to see it after so much has happened.

The trembling comes after it. His lips pull down and the skin between his eyebrows crinkles with a thoughtful expression while he glances in her direction in a swift motion. His hands move twitchily, she questions him tilting her head and he avoids her again.

"You make it really difficult," he whispers.

It comes too low, Juvia perceives―he doesn't want her to hear it, but she does, and her good mood goes like smoke in the wind.

She sniffs, tugs harder on the sleeves and decides that's enough.

"That's because Gray-sama doesn't want it to be _easy_."

He grunts, glaring at her contemptuously.

She replies in kind.

**.**

He shuffles one foot against the floor, backpack draped from one arm, and awkwardly fiddles with the belt suspending from his traveling cloak. She stands before him, no trace of the fever haunting her but rain present, and she fondles her arms around her form.

It's time.

She glares down to her hand where the silver cross punctures her palm with disdain and distress and grief.

Gray coughs uncomfortably, Juvia looks up and her throat burns as do her eyes.

"Juvia doesn't understand _why._ Why does Gray-sama have to do this _alone_―" He opens his mouth ready to retort, but she can't bring herself to care. "It's not like there's any _rush_ to fight Zeref and E.N.D and― much less when it may end terribly if Gray-sama decided to face them with no _help_."

He sighs, not daring to give in.

"You know it. Don't say you _don't, _goddammit," he grits through his teeth, adjusting the backpack behind him. "The others have told you what happened. It'll happen again and you fucking know it. It's for the fucking _better._"

She staggers at his words―forceful and bitter and harsh. But she feels like that, too, and just doesn't care.

"Juvia doesn't believe that," she says, pressuring as if searching for an opportunity that isn't there. "Juvia doesn't believe this is _only_ about the curse. Juvia thinks that Gray-sama is scared of―of what _he _could do, which is _silly_―"

"No, you're right. It's about the promise I made to my _father. _It's about doing the damn correct thing that I can do, 'cause, ya fucking know, Demon _Slayer_ Magic―

"―Gray-sama is being a stubborn _idiot _if he thinks Juvia, or _anyone_ for matter, cares about those marks―"

"―you're being _selfish _and _ridiculous _if you think good will alone is gonna fix this mess―"

_"_―like Gray-sama isn't acting the same way when he's operating on his own without caring about anyone's opinion―"

"―what the _fucking_―I'm doing this shitty job_ precisely_ 'coz I'm thinking about _you _and what _can _turn out―"

"Then Gray-sama should stop worrying about what has not happened yet!" she yells.

He steps back, lips pursed with an unreachable expression marking his hardened features. She seethes, arms stiff against her body and everything reels into this instant and she is afraid and anxious and so, so furious.

So damn furious.

But Juvia wants him where he is more than she wishes to explode into fits and screams and shouts, so she shallows her anger―acid and painful―and presses on.

"Gray-sama should start relying on others," Juvia begs, voice tiny and floored with misery. "It's what we _do _as Fairy Tail. We stick together_."_

"Don't make this more complicate than what it already is. You aren't supposed to―I want you to―stop. Fucking _stop._" Gray exhales, tired and remorsefully looking back to the wooden door. "Please."

She doesn't listen―doesn't want to.

It's her last chance, she knows, to convince and make a point and show that he chooses wrong. She is not wasting it, not anymore, and if she has to draw even what she shouldn't use…

Well―

So be it.

"Father entrusted Juvia with taking care of Gray-sama―"

"He did _what_?"

"―and Juvia guesses he knew about _this," _she forces out while stabbing his right pectoral with a finger, its dark swirls viciously making their presence known, "which means Father recognized that Gray-sama could not do this alone. He knew better than anyone that those marks weren't something to face without help. So, let's do this _together._"

The 'please' goes unsaid.

Gray steps back, her poking finger firmly pressing against his chest. He takes a long breathe, his finger lightly brushing against her, and for a hopeful moment, Juvia hopes for the best and the end of this self-imposed madness.

Until something flashes through his red irises, obscure and crimson, and he shakes his hair with finality.

Her heart drops and the worst comes out from his mouth.

_"No_," he says, cold and definitive and authoritative. "You can't. This, all this," he points to the black claws and bloodshot eyes, "is mine. You_ can't._"

She gasps, frozen and head spinning with his gelid tone and _such_ sorrowful eyes, and there is the tiniest hints of a plea somewhere and she _doesn't_ discern what she should―

It means _something_, she recognizes, important even, like his words and attitude and presents that she's too slow to catch on and if given just a bit _more_―

However, it's too late already.

Gray scratches at his black arm, sniffing.

He clasps his jaw, turns around and slams the door.

**.**

It occurs to her after what must be an eternity, although she doubts it has been more than a few minutes, that he is gone.

Actually gone.

She blinks at the door.

Her heart clenches and she squishes the necklace between her fingers, his words ringing between her ears.

It's not fair.

He is gone.

She chews on her lip.

It's _not _fair.

Why is this so difficult with him so stubborn and so set into not seeing?

Why can't she just tell him and why can't he just understand?

Why do demons have to haunt them even when they were no more?

Why, why, why―

He is gone.

It's not _fair._

The silver cross bores painfully.

But―

There _is_―

This time, she follows him.

**.**

It takes exactly fifty-seven steps to find him in edge of the forest behind their house with hair plastered against his skin for the rain and droplets of water dangling from his chin.

He is looking ahead to the trees and the meadow that extends further away, immobile, fist clenching and unclenching with a hurt expression defacing his face. She slows down in her hurry, his name not quite slipping from her lips, and watches with almost sick fascination how one of the black branches inches over the bridge of his nose.

Juvia halts at his side, doubts for a second before deciding that, no, she doesn't want to let him go for a second time. He doesn't look like he wants to, either―forcing himself more like, and that settles her conviction.

She grabs his hand and guides him back to their home.

Gray sputters something behind her. She doesn't listen.

They enter the house and she closes the door shut.

There is not even a moment to breathe when she launches herself into him and hugs him, arms sneaking around his chest and head resting just below his chin.

It's stiff and it's unnatural and it's familiar all in the right ways.

And she is shaking―_he _is shaking.

A part of her remembers of a snowy town between the mountains and graves with names hastily craved on them. She would be sure he's crying as he did back then if it wasn't because of the way he holds himself―rigid, tense, with a dash of softness when he grabs her around the waist.

He pushes her away to bring her closer the next moment, and she lets him do it as long as he doesn't cross that door alone again.

"I gotta go," Gray grinds. Then he takes on her wet strands of hair and clothes. "You're soaking. Go dry yourself before you catch another fucking cold."

"Juvia doesn't care."

"What are you―a _masochist_?"

She ignores it. "Not until Gray-sama's sincere with himself."

He scoffs.

"Why are you so fucking _obsessed_ with it? As if I didn't make my point clear enough," he scolds, untangling himself from her grip and removing the coat to put it around her. "I'm _not _staying. You're going with Natsu and Lucy and that's _that."_

The cloak is warm―it smells just like his shirt. Juvia gazes at the splotch where it's dirtied and wonders why Gray hasn't washed it.

She sneezes, shivers running up his spine while Gray grumbles something under his breath. It sounds dangerously close to 'told you so' and 'why now', and she has to keep herself from retorting back as she seeks towels for them while internally praying that he doesn't leave when she's distracted with her task of making them warm again.

He doesn't―he _stays,_ glaring at her back all the way.

Juvia smiles as she fumbles with the towels.

"Gray-sama should dry as well."

"Are you even _listening_―?"

She drops the towel on his head, takes it and starts scrubbing with force. He grunts when she yanks from one of his raven locks harder than she should, his complains falling in deaf ears when she begins with his face―it's almost like mother and son, she wonders, and giggles when his expression transforms into a pout of utter indignation.

Juvia continues even when there isn't a drop to see, her confidence lifted and she _knows._

He growls, the muscle of his neck bulging.

"Are you done?" he snarls, cheeks flustered.

"Maybe," she chirps, "is Gray-sama done?"

The frown dotting his face darkens, his nose scrunching unattractively as she carries on rubbing it and the smear of black traversing his skin.

At some point, Gray can't take it anymore and grabs her hands away from her job. She finds a stoic look on him, aggravated and weary and beat.

"It's enough, Juvia. I'm good."

She shakes her head.

"Juvia―"

"No." She places one of her own wet strands into the right place. "Juvia told you: not until Gray-sama stops lying."

"Lying _what? _I think I've been pretty fucking direct," he seethes, hands wrapping around her arms.

He glowers, mouth spoiled with a scorn and his brows knitted together while his red, red eyes bore holes into her. He is pricking her dark blue dress with his short nails and his palms deepen against her upper arm, even after she winces, and he _shakes._

Juvia takes a breath, chin held high and doesn't blink.

"Oh, no. Juvia doesn't doubt Gray-sama'll go on his own," she concedes, dismissing his confused state. "What Juvia doubts is that _this _is what Gray-sama _wants._"

He frowns, finger clenching against her flesh and she's hit the target.

"Because, even though Gray-sama continues saying that leaving is what he should do, it doesn't mean that's what Gray-sama wants to _do_. And if Gray-sama does, which Juvia hopes it _isn't_, then Gray-sama isn't the man Juvia thought he was and certainly not incredible or grand or remarkable―which is a pity. So Juvia really, really expects―"

"Of course I don't want to!" he screams, outraged. "Who the heck would?"

"―then what does Gray-sama want?"

He scolds, feet dragging.

"What does it matter?"

She puffs her chest, glares and pushes him to keep going.

He concedes, sneer in place and voice raw.

"I want to fight with Natsu like we used to. I want to be afraid of Erza―well, maybe not, but― I want to go in missions with my team and listen to Elfman with his _stupid _speeches about how to be a man. I want to see Mira and Lisanna and Cana smile in the counter and see how Master is doing and punch Gajeel and Laxus and you _know _this," he grunts. "I want Fairy Tail as much as you and anyone does, and you damn well know _this. _And I want to― you― _you_ and―"

He sends her a defiant stare―burning and powerful and dark, almost pinning her as she squirms under his intense gaze.

It's blazing and hot and longing―it almost chokes her and drowns her and she is petrified, because what does it mean and why does he and _when _did he―

It's all her dreams coming true, she discovers, soaring and impossible and _frightening. _But her heart aches for the sheer happiness and it's just so, _so_―

Until it's gone.

"But I _can't._ 'coz it's _my _damn responsibility and there won't be fun days or boring peace till that fucking asshole and his fucking book are gone. I won't be able to do anything because of these… marks, either, and you _know _this." He steps back, his face a mixture of anger and misery and melancholy. "So let me do this. Just _this."_

Gray sighs, his posture tense and she watches as he practically begs to her, head low and fingers trembling, and her insides coil with such a force that is almost real―it takes all her will not to give in and try to to soothe him.

She retrains herself, though, as she has done for the most part, and she purses her lips, shoulders squaring and dumping the towel somewhere. Juvia grasps his hands gently―almost scared, and prays that this time it'll work.

She looks at him and smiles―tiny and hesitant, but confident.

He listens.

"Then it's Juvia's responsibility as well," she remarks― it's only the truth, and he discerns this as much as she does since Father gave her the weight of the world to her as he did with his son. "It doesn't mean Gray-sama has to do _everything. _Gray-sama doesn't have to. Juvia and the others are there. Juvia told you this. She _will _help you._"_

Gray shakes their hands, prying them away uselessly because she keeps seeking them and not letting _go_―not here and there and then. Not ever.

He whines in a way that she can't hear, and looks at her―really look― to find determination with a pinch of smugness and a spoonful of conviction on eyes that usually are full of love and admiration for him.

She holds her gaze with the same intensity as he does, nervousness sneaking under her skin, and she isn't defeated.

He _is._

Her soul bursts.

But he is somewhat of sore loser and doesn't want to forfeit easily.

"What will you do when I lost it again? 'Cause it'll happen―"

She snorts.

"Juvia hopes, since Natsu-san punches worked so well, her slaps will do the job."

"―and we're facing _Zeref _here―"

"All the better reason for Juvia to go with Gray-sama."

"―Fairy Tail gets his own agenda. I doubt we're gonna see much of them―"

"Gajeel's gift can wait and Cana'd enjoy the bar no matter who is her companion." She chews on her lip before adding: "And it's not like Juvia and Gray-sama won't see them ever again."

"―why are you so stubborn?" he grumbles, hands messaging his temple.

She sighs softly, her strength slowly slipping and the energy she has had running through her veins evaporates within seconds.

She has won. Definitely. It's in the way he looks at her―overwhelmed and yielding and compliant― the way he speaks―soft and crisp and worn― or how he holds her now―tender and sensitive and defeated.

She can't help herself to touch one of his cheeks, warm against her still soaked fingers, and she basks in the manner he leans into it before catching himself in the movement. She looks up and smiles at him.

"Because Juvia loves Gray-sama."

Her words have an immediate effect, his eyes widening before dashing far away from hers.

His backpack falls to the floor, his shoulders shag, and face flares with red much like his irises. It's amusing to watch, since he tries too hard to avoid her, and she bites on her lip when he sniffs in what it looks is embarrassment.

The squeal dies on her throat. He protests more―an intelligible volley of words that don't make much sense even when put together.

"Goddammit," he murmurs and glances at her. "God-fucking-dammit."

Juvia squeaks when he falls against her, his chest pressed against hers, arms dangling uselessly at his sides and head nestling between the crook of her neck. He mumbles some more, exhales, and his breath tingles her skin.

It's her time to flush and twitch, her imagination going into a wild ride that ranged from an impossible situation to the next―until reality kicks in and she embraces him.

It's quiet and it's calm and it's something she has been searching for awhile―she doesn't even notice her rain against the boards or the dampness or anything but the man snuggling on her.

She grins.

A wild idea, clear and illuminative, comes to her―like a relevation, and she's _giddy _all of a sudden.

She purrs.

"And because Gray-sama is Juvia's."

He rises a bit from his position, blinks, opens his mouth and closes it again.

She smiles as his scowl takes form and her words finally register.

"What."

"Well―Gray-sama promised Juvia he would be with her regardless of what happened, so―"

"I did, but those are completely _different _things―"

"And Gray-sama promised to buy chocolate―something Gray-sama hasn't done yet―"

"What does that even matter―"

"And since Gray-sama gave Juvia his necklace it's like sort of a pledge to her?"

"Do you even hear yourself―I fucking _swear, _Juvia―"

"So Gray-sama is Juvia's until he fulfills all his promises and Juvia won't let go off you until then."

"What the hell―are you _kidnapping_ me?"

"No. Juvia doesn't think so." She hums, a mischievous grin appearing all of sudden. "Yet."

He groans, head falling against her shoulder again and snuggles there.

"You're impossible," he mutters, defeated.

"Like Gray-sama."

Her smile grows when she feels him smirking against her shoulder.

**.**

It's a sunny and warm and clear day when they return the keys of the tiny house back to its owner who lives in another town. Juvia takes care of writing a letter to their friends, explaining in detail what has transpired as well as noting the number of the portable lacrima they have bought for the possible occasion when either side needs help.

Gray buys supplies and a map and obtains information on everything and anything that could be of use, his face casually warded off of any feeling and memory and blush when she prods and pokes and jokes.

But he laughs at her excitement and sighs at her wackiness and rolls his eyes when she comments on her dreams and wishes and wants.

She does, too, and for once it feels as it should even if they have demons and dragons and dark mages before them.

She holds his hand between hers―black and wicked and only _his_―and doesn't let go although at first he attempts to.

She shrugs, he glares with the begining of a smile and they walk down the path.

And they march _on_.

**.**

_And if even then, after all her efforts and pains, he fell_―

_Well._

_She was falling with him._

_That's why she wouldn't let it happen._

**.**

**Fin.**


End file.
